We first met Ermon Owens and his family over 30 years ago, when our boys were still in grade school. His family became some of our dearest friends. They ate at our table many times and our children played together and grew up together. Keith and Ermon cut wood together. They raised pigs together. They sat together and talked Bible for hours. In fact, you couldn't sit with Ermon for long without talking about spiritual things.

At one of those dinner visits, Keith talked to him about becoming an elder. True to his humble nature he seemed a bit aghast. "Me?" he asked and was instantly assured that not only was he qualified, he had a talent for watching over people. With just a little more persuasion from others, he finally accepted that heavy responsibility and flourished at it.

Ermon had a way about him. He made it his business to find out about people and their problems. He knew who needed a kind word or a pat on the back, and he gave them freely, searching out needy souls as he wended his way through the crowd on Sunday mornings, or as he made visits during the week. Yet he could answer a fool according to his folly with a few words that left that man speechless and ashamed—but seldom angry. Ermon knew that waiting "for a better time" could be the advice of the devil because you never know what opportunity could be your last to try to save an erring brother or sister. Last week Ermon taught us that lesson himself with his sudden, tragic passing

Maybe it was that broad smiling face or the twinkle in his eye, but Ermon had a special way with children. Many of us found out after his death that he had been a tutor and mentor to elementary school students. We shouldn't have been surprised. In our family alone he showed up at recitals, school musicals, ball games, and graduations. He bought my Lucas some cleats when he was on the high school baseball team. We hadn't even known he needed them, assuming the school provided such things, but not so in the smallest county in Florida. He often sat in my classes to watch me teach the children, an elder watching over the new lambs in the flock to make sure they were being fed properly. That was Ermon. Always on duty, always watching out for others.

Ermon was one of the finest men I have ever known. He was the big brother I never had, even if I did have a couple of years on him. When we lost Ermon, we lost much more than a simple man—we lost a hero.

Ermon's children played with mine, went to Bible class with mine, and they often spent time in one another's company outside of church time, though they lived in different counties a good twenty miles apart. Ermon's son Leron stood up with my Nathan when he married and because of the closeness we had shared for so long, we had Ermon and Brenda seated in the family section that night. It seemed fitting.

One evening, a dozen or more years before that, the Owens had come over for yet another dinner. When it was time for them to leave, our boys were not ready to say good-bye to their young friends. "Can't they spend the night?" Lucas implored.

"But they have school tomorrow," Ermon reminded him. At this point I need to tell you, if you don't already know, that Ermon and Brenda are African-Americans.

"They can come to school with us," Lucas immediately replied. "We'll tell them they are our cousins," and then stood there waiting for his "obvious" solution to be accepted.

None of us answered, and finally Lucas, who was about 12 at the time, figured it out. "Oh," he said, shoulders drooping in disappointment.

At that point Keith spoke up. "Well Ermon, we are brothers aren't we? And that makes our kids cousins, I think."

Ermon cocked his head as he considered the thought. "I guess so," he finally allowed with a smile and a chuckle, "but they still can't stay, Lucas. Maybe another night."

And there were many more nights.

Ermon came to lunch about a month before his passing. It was the usual—talk about spiritual things for a good two hours. When he left, he said, "This has been good," and he wasn't talking about the food. Yes it had been good, and one day we will get together again.

One of Ermon's favorite things to say was, "I know where I'm going, and I'm ready to go. Are you?" I promise you, he's saving you a seat in his Father's house, waiting with that beautiful smile and that precious twinkle in his eye.

For I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been thus destroyed, yet in my flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see for myself, and my eyes shall behold, and not another. My heart faints within me! (Job 19:25-27)

I have heard it two ways, seen it written three ways, but in every case it was ascribed to Mark Twain as, if not the actual person involved, the one who relayed the story. A neighbor came asking to borrow an axe. Twain—or an acquaintance of his—said he couldn't loan it because he was having soup for supper (or needed a shave). When asked what that had to do with an axe the reply came back, "Nothing. But any excuse will do when you don't want to do something."

Having recently had to deal with a person who always has an excuse for not doing something she had an obligation to do, this little story really hit home. I have just about stopped asking or suggesting anything of this person now. It's obvious she is having soup for supper, or perhaps needs a shave. Why should I allow myself to become frustrated over someone who just doesn't care?

Jesus made the same point with his parable about the great feast (Luke 14:15-24), and in a similar parable about the wedding feast (Matt 22:1-10). All those he had invited had an excuse, and all about as silly as needing an axe to eat soup with. So the host took back his invitation and offered it to those who would take him up on it, those who obviously felt it was worth the trouble and disruption of their evening schedule. They would certainly receive far more in return.

We usually apply this to the salvation Jesus is offering, which is a valid and perhaps even primary application. But let me offer you a few more.

Has anyone ever asked you to go visiting with them? Maybe the person is new to the congregation, maybe he is simply new to recognizing his obligations as a brother in the Lord. Having you along would help with his nervousness, aid him in keeping a conversation going, and it would also create a new bond between you. Did you manage to find an excuse not to go?

Has anyone ever offered to study with you, perhaps an older brother well-versed in the Scripture who is anxious now to pass on what he has learned in all his hard work through the years, especially the process of learning on one's own? How many excuses did you come up with before he gave up on you?

Has a sister invited you to the Ladies' Bible Class, assuring you it is a learning opportunity, not a gabfest? How many things did you find that absolutely had to be done during that one hour of the week rather than any other?

Has your family been invited into the home of another, not only as simple hospitality, but also as a way to develop a closer relationship? Did your always busy schedule make it impossible to "pencil them in?"

See what I mean? We are oh so good with the excuses. And let me tell you, the more of them you make, the more obvious it is why you are making them. If for some reason you simply cannot do something, just say so. If you just don't want to, say so. Are you worried about hurting feelings? Trust me, people are not as naïve as you seem to believe. They know what's going on. I have far more respect for honesty than excuse after excuse after excuse.

If I can see through them, so can God. It isn't even a super-power, people. And just like I have given up on that one I have had to listen to, God will give up on excuse-makers too. Just what do we think that parable was all about anyway?

Then he said to his servants, ‘The wedding feast is ready, but those invited were not worthy. Go therefore to the main roads and invite to the wedding feast as many as you find.’ (Matt 22:8-9)

I never had much trouble sightreading piano music. You read the note, you find it on the piano, and you play it. I wasn’t perfect by any means—trying to read music and translate that to a mental keyboard in your mind and then have your hands immediately go to the correct place on the real keyboard in just a matter of milliseconds takes a quick mind and perfect eyesight, neither of which I had even then. But for the most part I was a good music reader and got the job done, even if I did have to slow the tempo down so I could play in the correct rhythm too.

Then I got to college theory classes and was expected to sightsing! Now that is a completely different issue. Looking at a page of notes and singing them seemed like an impossible task to me. It takes a natural ear. If you don’t have one, you have to train it. I had to put mine through boot camp the entire first year of theory classes. Eventually I learned to do it—I could look at a piece of music and sing the notes, without accompaniment of any kind, not even chords to keep you in the right key. I wasn’t any more perfect at it than I was at the piano, probably less, but I was musician enough to pass my tests, classes, and juries, and to make two college choruses and a women’s sextet.

Most of the hymns in our books are written in standard major keys, with standard four part harmony. They are nothing like the music I had to sightsing in college, so I can usually sightsing them without too much trouble. It’s sort of like being asked to boil an egg when you have been making soufflés for four years--simple. Most of the congregation, though, do not have the advantage of being trained musicians and they just sing it the way they first heard it, which in many cases was incorrect. That means that very often I stick out like a sore thumb (or a sour note).

I have tried to sing what everyone else is singing just so I won’t, but I have trained myself so diligently that I can’t. I’m a musician—I see the note, I sing what I see. We were singing “When We All Get to Heaven,” the other day, and every time (at least three) I sang it right I created a clash that was hard to go unnoticed. “Leaning on the Everlasting Arms” creates at least five such clashes. With “Amazing Grace” the list is nearly as long as the song itself.

But you know what? While I don’t want to cause those clashes, my training makes it nearly impossible to sing the songs wrong, and my desire to please God by obeying His commands to sing makes it completely impossible for me to stop singing.

Isn’t that the way life is supposed to be for a Christian? You really don’t want to clash with your neighbors. You really want to “live peaceably with all men.” But you should have trained yourself so well that you find it nearly impossible to sin. Sticking out like a sore thumb shouldn’t matter to you. Yes, it may be difficult, but no one ever promised us “easy.” We are supposed to be different from unbelievers. We are supposed to “conform to the image of His Son,” not to the world. It should be a habit by now.

Sometimes when I sing things correctly, but differently, I get funny looks. Once, a song leader even went to the microphone when that section came up on the next verse so he could sing the (wrong) note loud and clear. I guess he heard my different note on the first verse and it bugged him.

This coming Sunday morning, if you hear someone sing a different note than you are singing, maybe you should check the notes you are singing. Then do something much more important. Use it as a reminder to check your life. Could anyone tell you apart from your neighbors, or do you blend right in? Out there in the world, you should be sightsinging a completely different tune.

But the wisdom from above is first pure—then peaceable…James 3:17.Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed…Rom 12:2.

I have a friend who, before she retired, kept a bar of soap in her desk drawer. Whenever a new young hire came in, it wasn't long before she was telling him about her soap and how much he needed to chew on it awhile. If you have not noticed, the language around us is simply atrocious.

"It's just a word," one young co-worker proclaimed.

"Choose another one," she tersely replied.

Why anyone would think that filthy language was appropriate in a professional setting, I cannot imagine. But then I go out in the world and hear children saying words I would never have breathed aloud when I was young—not if I wanted to sit down again any time soon.

I am not just talking about the four letter words that people usually consider "dirty" or even taking the Lord's name in vain. As a culture we have become crude and vulgar. Lucy and Ethel had us rolling in the floor as we watched their antics on the candy wrapping conveyor belt and in the wine vat. Now we seem to require a heavy dose of bathroom humor or sexual innuendo before anything is deemed funny.

And talk about hypocrisy—the same media that berates the president for his bad language gives us a show called "S*****'s Creek" and a movie called "Meet the F*****s" with all the attendant jokes that can obviously be made from those two titles. I won't dignify them with their supposedly cleaned up names.

Do you think it hasn't affected Christians? I hear words that I would never have been allowed to say without being punished all the time. No, they aren't "dirty" words. They're just crude. Swear words aren't the only words Christians shouldn't be speaking. I regularly delete posts on Facebook from my brothers and sisters that a Christian shouldn't have spoken aloud to a few, much less put out there for literally thousands to see.

Our culture has even managed to make it acceptable to use one of the ugliest phrases in our language, a phrase that would have ended up in a parking lot beat down when I was a child. And the younger generation steadfastly refuses to accept its origin just because they can find no one who knows it either. My poor husband wound up vilified once because he dared suggest that a brother shouldn't use that term, which refers to a homosexual act. Even if the younger generation refuses to recognize the vulgarity for what it is, we older folks know exactly what it means and "everyone says it" never has been and never will be an acceptable excuse.

Is it really that important? Paul says it is. And there must be no filthiness and silly talk, or coarse jesting, which are not fitting, but rather giving of thanks. (Eph 5:4) That term "coarse jesting" is actually one word in the Greek and it isn't necessarily talking about dirty jokes. It's talking about crudity, vulgarity, double entendres, and any other sort of coarse language. It refers to bathroom humor, bodily functions, sexual innuendo and anything that should be unacceptable in polite society, and even more so among those who claim lives of purity. Look at the rest of the context. But immorality or any impurity or greed must not even be named among you, as is proper among saints; and there must be no filthiness and silly talk, or coarse jesting, which are not fitting, but rather giving of thanks. For this you know with certainty, that no immoral or impure person or covetous man, who is an idolater, has an inheritance in the kingdom of Christ and God. (Eph 5:3-5).

Do you see the implications Paul makes? If I speak like this, I am impure, immoral, and not fit to be in the kingdom. That's how important this is. We are supposed to be different. How will it be known if we sound just like everyone else, and laugh at the same crude humor? Remember the old Ivory Soap ads? "99 and 44/100th percent pure," they claimed. We should be trying for a purity even beyond that, but we end up looking like someone dropped us in a tar pit when we open our mouths.

I am not some ignorant fool who does not realize that Paul spoke from time to time in figures that were shocking. I would that they that unsettle you would even go beyond circumcision, (Gal 5:12) is a prime example. But let me ask you this. How much shock value would that statement have had if he spoke that way all the time? This was a special circumstance. People were losing their souls. When this was read, I imagine there was a collective gasp as everyone suddenly understood how serious Paul was about the matter. He would never had said such a thing otherwise.

Us? We sound like that constantly, just for laughs, or even about the trivial everyday stuff. I feel like my friend—I need to carry a bar of soap around. But I never imagined I would have to offer it to a brother.

Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear. (Eph 4:29)

I hate to hear of a policeman gone bad. He gives all the good ones a bad name. As the wife of a law enforcement officer, I shouldn’t have to defend my husband’s career choice just because someone who isn’t what he should have been has shamed the badge, but the reality is, I do.

Law enforcement officers aren’t the only ones who have this problem.

God spent an entire chapter on the priests of Israel who shirked their duties (Ezek 34). Many good priests still quietly went about fulfilling their obligations, like Zaccharias, honored to serve in the house of the Lord, but by the time of Christ, too many were political animals, caring only for their own power and wealth, like Annas and Caiaphas.

The Jews in the Old Testament, while still acting “as the people” Ezek 33:30-32, behaved in a manner unsuitable to God’s children. They forgot who their Father was and shamed Him with their immorality, lack of compassion, and idolatry. Yes, a remnant remained, but they too suffered because the majority represented the whole, and the world laughed Jehovah to scorn when He allowed them to be punished. Yet He did allow it, because the representation of Jehovah’s children was shameful.

In the New Testament, their descendants gave the people another bad name—“Pharisees,” which though merely a sect concerned with carefully keeping the Law, eventually came to mean “self-righteous hypocrite.” It is easy to believe in a quick read that no righteous Pharisees existed, yet among them were Nicodemus, Joseph of Arimathea, and Saul of Tarsus. In spite of them, the general impression the majority left had Jesus regularly condemning them.

Things have not changed. Just as a corrupt cop can give all policemen a bad name, bad churches can give all other churches a bad name. How many times have I had to defend the group I worship with because some other group far away lacked compassion, failed in its duty to teach the whole gospel instead of just its own pet slogans, or refused to welcome the troubled, the disabled, and the sinner? More than I want to count.

But more to the point this morning, have I given God’s people a bad name? What do my friends, neighbors and co-workers think about my brethren, not by what they have seen of them in person, but by what they have seen of me? Do I, in fact, complain about them all the time? Do I gossip? Am I constantly angry and unhappy instead of cheerful and pleasant to be around? Do I assist whenever I can, whoever I can, or do I have biases that anyone who knows me can list without a second’s thought? Am I reliable, trustworthy, and honest to a fault? How is my language and my dress? We are foolish to think no one notices these things, and we bring shame on our Creator when they do.

The church is one big House of Representatives. When the world looks at us, it sees the Lord. Would He be happy with the picture you are painting of Him today?

For as touching those who were once enlightened and tasted of the heavenly gift, and were made partakers of the Holy Spirit, and tasted the good word of God, and the powers of the age to come, and then fell away, it is impossible to renew them again unto repentance; seeing they crucify to themselves the Son of God afresh, and put him to an open shame, Hebrews 6:4-6.

Some responsibilities are tougher than others. Some responsibilities deserve the word “onus,” a responsibility that is so big it is almost terrifying. I imagine the first time you really understood that word was when they put that tiny, squirming baby in your arms. Suddenly you understood that it was your responsibility to care for another human being, one who was completely helpless and dependent. It wasn’t like a friend who was having a problem so you spent some time with him and then went home to your own life again. This was a responsibility that completely changed your life—your schedule, your budget, your chores, even your habits. I bet you said, “I have to stop (blank)ing now.” You didn’t want your child to develop those same bad habits you were always fighting and suddenly you had the motivation to deal with them. I bet you sacrificed a lot of things. Suddenly spending an hour to put on makeup wasn’t quite so important. Suddenly you forgot to watch a few ball games on Saturday. Suddenly you didn’t need to eat out quite so often, or see so many movies, or go shopping as much. I bet you suddenly felt a love you never even knew existed before then, something nearly overpowering in its strength. While the word onus means a “burden” of responsibility, I bet you never thought of it that way once. You were happy to do those things for that precious child. I was studying a few weeks ago and came upon something that put another onus on me. Once I really understood what I was reading, I actually shivered a little and felt a peculiar sensation in the pit of my stomach.…That they may turn from darkness to light and from the power of Satan unto God, that they may receive remission of sins and an inheritance among them that are sanctified by faith in me, Acts 26:18. We are “sanctified” by faith. Okay, so we are “set apart,” (yawn). What of it?Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name, Matt 6:9. The Greek word for “sanctified” is the same Greek word translated “hallowed.” We are “sanctified” just like God’s name is “hallowed.” Do you realize the burden that places on us in our behavior? Only let your manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ, Paul says in Phil 1:27. Suddenly our lives should have changed. We should have been anxious to rid ourselves of the bad habit of sin. Worldly affairs should have found their correct place on the bottom of our priority list. Sacrificing for a Lord who sacrificed Himself for us should have come naturally, and an overpowering love and gratitude should have overwhelmed us. That’s what should have happened. Did it? Maybe this little reminder will help. God expects you to be as hallowed, as sanctified, as His name is. We always told our boys, “Remember who you are.” All of us need that reminder. As obedient children, do not be conformed to the passions of your former ignorance, but as he who called you is holy, you also be holy in all your conduct, since it is written, "You shall be holy, for I am holy." And if you call on him as Fatherwho judges impartially according to each one's deeds, conduct yourselves with fear throughout the time of your exile, knowing that you were ransomed from the futile ways inherited from your forefathers, not with perishable things such as silver or gold, but with the precious blood of Christ, like that of a lamb without blemish or spot.1 Peter 1:14-19. Now read all those underlined phrases one after the other. That is the onus that is placed upon you.

The day after a camping trip is my least favorite. It isn’t just that the fun is over. It isn’t just the unpacking and the piles of extra-dirty laundry. It’s the complete lack of order in the house. The linens box, the pots and dishes box, the two food boxes, the tent and sleeping bag box, the boxes of gas canisters, batteries, light bulbs, extension cords, insect repellent, clothesline and clothespins, books and Bibles, along with the tool box, first aid kit, two suitcases and two coolers lie stacked or scattered on the carport and porch, in the kitchen and living room. Although the linens are all camp linens, no longer used on an everyday basis, they must all be washed—and bleached—before I can put them away. Everything else must be sorted through. Some stay packed with the camping gear and others are returned to their regular homes in the pantry, on a shelf, in a cabinet, or in the shed. The tent must be set up in the field to finish drying and sleeping bags hung to air out. It is often two or three days before my home is back in order. Over the past few years, I have learned to accept a little less order. Keith’s idea of order does not match mine, but he has had to take over the housekeeping several times so guess whose sense of order reigns then? But when I go into the shed looking for the garden trowel, I can never find it while he knows exactly where it is. In fact, he wants the item put right back where I got it, even if it doesn’t make sense to me because of his sense of order. I learned a long time ago not to touch the top of his dresser, no matter how much it aggravates me. We each have a sense of order—no matter how messy others might think it—and we don’t want people rearranging things. Why do we think God wants us messing with His sense of order? God’s sense of order has always had a reason, and while my sense of order is nothing but a selfish desire to keep things the way I want them, God’s sense of order is always for our good. The order he imposes upon our assemblies is for the ease of edification. Camp awhile in 1 Corinthians 14. If there is no interpreter, don’t speak in tongues because no one will be edified (vv 15-19), and visitors will simply be confused (v 23). If more than one of you has a revelation, take turns so people can be edified rather than confused by the chaos of more than one speaking at a time (vv 27-28). Women should not be asking questions to put their husbands forward, when some other topic might be more important to the group at that time (vv 34-35). Surely we can see applications to today’s assemblies in all of that. God’s sense of order isn’t about who gets the most floor time, or how much we are entertained—it’s about how much edification occurs. God’s sense of order for our lives helps us live happier, safer, and healthier. We take better care of our bodies, our relationships, and our minds when we follow His order. Even the ordinances that seemed to have nothing to do with us reinforce the goodness, the righteousness, and the holiness of God—things that are important to making us fit for an eternal life with a spiritual and holy Deity. “Surely God wouldn’t mind” presumptuously ignores the fact that the Creator is the only one with the right to impose order in our worship of Him and in our lives of service to Him. “But I like it this way,” is simply selfishness and a slap in the face to God who has given everything to make it possible to be with Him forever. God doesn’t really care if I keep my spare items on the bottom shelf of the pantry and the things actively in use at eye level. It doesn’t matter to Him that Keith keeps all the garden sprays and powders to the left of the middle pillar on the third shelf. But the order He does care about, should be my first concern too. In those things, God’s sense of order is the only one that matters.

And by this we know that we have come to know him, if we keep his commandments. Whoever says "I know him" but does not keep his commandments is a liar, and the truth is not in him, 1 John 2:3-4.

What career will you choose? Or will you decide to be a stay-at-home mom and then a servant of the church after your children have grown and left the nest?

Where will you live?

Will you take this promotion?

With which congregation of God's people will you choose to serve?

In what ways will you serve?

By the time they reach my age, most people believe the forks are all behind them. All that remains is the final leg of the journey, one about which we may have very little choice.

They couldn't be more wrong. There remains one huge choice we must make: how will we allow the past circumstances of life to affect us?

I've seen older people become bitter and unsympathetic because of the "raw deal" they believe they were handed. But I've seen others with just as trying ordeals radiate a quiet, compassionate wisdom. One permeates the air with the fetid reek of selfishness while the other offers comfort and encouragement. They may have both suffered great losses and disappointments—of such is life—but only one has "the mind of the spirit," recognizing that this life is not the be-all and end-all, that the first moment of Eternity will make it seem as nothing. And that final fork in the road will be her choice to continue serving God by leading others to the same fork, rather than driving them away with spiteful comments, cynicism, and complaints.

This fork may be your last chance. Even if you chose poorly all along the way, you can use your failures to help others avoid them. One right choice at the end can still make your life useFUL instead of useLESS.

Again, though I say to the wicked, ‘You shall surely die,’ yet if he turns from his sin and does what is just and right, if the wicked restores the pledge, gives back what he has taken by robbery, and walks in the statutes of life, not doing injustice, he shall surely live; he shall not die. None of the sins that he has committed shall be remembered against him. He has done what is just and right; he shall surely live. Ezek 33:14-16

You’d think by now I’d be used to it. I’ve heard it everywhere I’ve been, but it still amazes me that people who have been Christians for decades still view suffering the wrong way. Yes, we suffer in this life. All of us suffer in one way or the other. So why do those few think that the reason for their suffering is so they can be “Queen for a Day?”

Probably only a few of you remember that show. I was very young myself. Originally it aired on a local radio show in LA, but it was picked up for national broadcast by NBC on January 3, 1956. It has been called the first “reality show” and it was roundly criticized even in its day. It went like this: three or four women showed up to tell their stories of woe and suffering and the audience voted on who was suffering the most and that one “lucky” woman received a robe, a crown, a bouquet of roses, and several prizes, in effect being treated like a queen for one day. A contest to see who is suffering the most? Really? But isn’t that what so many in the church do? “I deserve more attention than so-and-so because I have more problems than she does.”

People who constantly complain about not getting enough attention are giving themselves away for, as Jesus says, “Out of the heart the mouth speaks,” Matt 15:18. Indeed, if my suffering were as severe as my “Woe is me!” attitude, I wouldn’t be thinking about the attention I do or don’t get, but about the trial itself. But all that is beside the point. Suffering is not about being served.

Peter tells us that suffering refines us, makes us pure and stronger (1 Pet 1:6-9). James seems to indicate that suffering brings wisdom (Jas 1:2-6). But I think that even those things don’t reach the ultimate reason we suffer. Suffering is about discipleship. A disciple is not above his teacher, but everyone when he is fully trained will be like his teacher, Luke 6:40. Why do we think we can be a disciple of a suffering servant and never suffer like he did?

So why did Jesus have to suffer? Hebrews tells us that because he suffered he is able to help those who also suffer (2:18), and that as a high priest he is able to sympathize with us (4:15.). He learned obedience by the things he suffered “with loud cries and tears,” (5:8). Yes, he really suffered and the whole purpose of his suffering was so he could help others who are suffering the same way.

So why do I suffer? Doesn’t it make sense that as a disciple of Christ, I am suffering for the same reason he did, so I can accomplish the same thing he accomplished? We neither suffer so we can be the center of attention nor so we can stand as judge over others who give that attention. We suffer so that we can better serve those who are suffering similar things. Even the purity, strength, and wisdom that come from suffering helps us accomplish those ends. As with everything else in a Christian’s life, my suffering is not about me, it is about others.

Have you been forsaken by an unfaithful spouse? Be willing to talk openly to those who are going through the same things. You may well be the only one who understands the thoughts that go through one’s head, the looks you get from others, the ordeal of custody battles and the instant poverty that sometimes accompanies this betrayal.

Have you survived cancer? Look for new victims who feel the constant pressure of wondering not if it will return, but when. Look for still others, not just cancer victims, but anyone with a bleak prognosis. No one understands the axe hanging over their heads like you do.

Have you been the victim of violent crime? No one understands the constant terror that one lives with after that, the burden of overcoming paranoia—seeing a boogeyman behind every face in a parking lot, in a grocery aisle, passing you in a car as you walk to get the mail. No one else can understand the embarrassment of once again becoming a little child who is afraid of the dark.

Have you lost a child? Have you lost a child to the world? Have you faced financial ruin? Have you lost everything to a fire, a hurricane, a tornado? Are you facing disability or the caregiving of a spouse who no longer knows who you are? Everyone has faced something, and God expects you to use that experience, and the strength and wisdom you have gained from it, to help someone else. You are the Lord’s agent on this earth. Don’t let all your pain go to waste.

None of this can be accomplished if I am still whining about a loss that occurred years ago. No one can be helped if I am still expecting everyone to pat me on the back for every little thing that comes along. At some point God expects me to not get over it—that may never happen—but to get past it, to no longer be paralyzed by grief but ready to serve. Some afflictions are more difficult than others. Some trials need a longer recovery period, but mature Christians eventually grow beyond the selfish need for attention.

We don’t suffer so we can be “Queen for a Day.” On the contrary, suffering makes us both eligible and obligated to help others. God expects me to search out those who need my special experiences and serve. Just when has He ever expected anything less of His people?

So Jesus also suffered outside the gate in order to sanctify the people through his own blood. Therefore let us go to him outside the camp and bear the reproach he endured.Hebrews 13:12-13

I recently ran a reminiscence of being so different in high school that a teacher gave me a special poster to celebrate it. Somehow my parents taught me to be different and not care that I was different. One reader made the comment on this blog's Facebook page, "We cannot teach our children to be different if we don't learn the lesson first," and now that I think of it, that may have been the key for me. My parents thought nothing of being different. If you were a disciple of Christ, that's how you lived. And so I fell into it quite naturally. Unfortunately many of my brethren must not have been taught that.

This past presidential campaign nearly made me ill. Seeing Christians spew out unverified rumors, innuendoes, sarcasm, threats, blatant disrespect, and just plain nastiness, all in the name of standing for the truth, appalled me. I wondered what our first century brethren might have thought about the whole thing.

Did you know that first century Christians in a world even meaner than ours (though by less and less everyday), often gave themselves away because they did exactly what no one expected them to do? They were kind to those they disagreed with, including idolaters. They assisted and served those in need, even those who would later turn them in for being Christians—an illegal activity. Scorn, ridicule and disdain were not a part of their vocabulary or lifestyle. They were different because they followed a Savior who was different, one who "when he was reviled, reviled not again; when he suffered, threatened not, but committed himself to him who judges righteously," 1 Pet 2:23. THAT is what it means to be different.

If you have been struggling to conform yourself to that image, maybe it's time for a little more effort. You may have finally learned to speak kindly, even to the unkind and unfair among us, when it is face to face. But how are you doing when it is not a "person" but a car you are railing at, or worse? How do you do when it's a faceless voice on the phone? How does your pen react when some impersonal corporation has treated you unfairly? How does your keyboard click when you are posting a diatribe against whatever political side you deem evil at the moment? In all those cases, someone—an actual person--is noticing how you behave, even when you think your identity is hidden. Think about it for a minute—Facebook posts your name and picture at the top of every one of those angry posts.

We recently did some painting in the house. I went to the paint department of the local home improvement store, picked out a color card and handed it to the man to mix my paint. When the paint went up on the wall, I was sure it was darker than the card I had chosen. But when I laid that card up against the wall, it completely disappeared—it was exactly the same color. It blended right in. Sometimes we are nothing more than a color card at the paint store.

I am supposed to be different from the average Joe, even the relatively good citizen out there. I am supposed to act (not react) as a follower of my Lord. I am supposed to be willing to suffer wrong or even loss to show that difference.

If being a Christian does become illegal someday in this country, I should be giving myself away by my kind words, by my willingness to yield rather than argue, and by my acts of compassion even to those who do not deserve it. I am not supposed to be blending in with all the other pagans, disappearing like a color card from the paint store into a wall of humanity who are a perfect match.

Beloved, I urge you as sojourners and exiles to abstain from the passions of the flesh, which wage war against your soul. Keep your conduct among the Gentiles honorable, so that when they speak against you as evildoers, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day of visitation. (1Pet 2:11-12)

AuthorDene Ward has taught the Bible for more than forty years, spoken at women’s retreats and lectureships, and has written both devotional books and class materials. She lives in Lake Butler, Florida, with her husband Keith.